Planets
by Mr. GOP 88
Summary: A killer is on the loose in New York City. The team races to find the killer, but one of them might be on his list. First and third person with the whole team and a couple of OC's.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_This is my first full-length story. Please read and review if you wish. I'll post chapter 2 in a few days._

**Wherein a body appears in the extreme corner of the city and our heroes have very few clues, at least for now. Meanwhile, our villain savors his first triumph. It won't be the last.**

RING! RING! RING! RING!

I roll over and groan. It's after midnight and I was just getting to sleep for the first time in days.

Muttering darkly, I almost decide to not answer it. Still, I figure someone wouldn't be calling me at 12:15 in the morning unless they had good reason.

My hand feels around on the nightstand for my phone. I find it after some searching.

"Taylor."

"Hey Mac, we have a scene on the extreme southern edge of Staten Island."

"Have you called anyone else Don?" I ask groggily.

"No I haven't."

"Okay, I'll get a hold of Stella."

"Thanks Mac."

He hangs up and I place a call to Stella.

"Bonasera." She sounds almost as tired as I am.

"Hey Stella, it's Mac, we have a scene on Staten Island."

"Are you at your apartment?"

"Yes."

"I'll pick you up in 15 minutes."

"Thanks Stella." Our conversation ends.

I start moving around my room still half-asleep, trying to get ready. With the light still out, I stumble and stub my toe against the wall. Swearing under my breath I manage to get the light on and get dressed.

After getting ready, I wait for Stella to arrive. It doesn't take long.

We are quiet for almost the entire ride, and then Stella tries to ask me something.

"Mac, were you busy tonight?"

"Why do ask?"

"I tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail."

"I was at a classical music concert."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. We used to go."

"Oh." She knows who I mean.

That pretty much ends the conversation until we get to the crime scene. Flack wasn't lying; we are on the most extreme southern part of Staten Island, practically in New Jersey.

"What have we got Flack?"

"A woman taking her dog out spotted our vic about a half hour ago. She says she saw a body lying face-down in the alley and called us. I got to tell you Mac, I was kind of hoping that this one would just be across the river. That way the Jersey PD could be up and I could be asleep."

"Well, it's barely in our jurisdiction, but it is still our jurisdiction. Anyone else see our vic?"

"No, but some of my guys are canvassing the area, checking if anyone happened to see anything."

"Thanks Don." I turn to my partner "body or scene Stella?"

"I'll take scene."

"Right." I go to the body. Our vic is male, middle-aged, and it doesn't appear that there are any marks of violence. There are also no defensive wounds on him. He's dressed in a tuxedo. Looking more closely at his hands, I notice a small amount of skin under his fingernails. I quickly collect some. This could give us a vital DNA sample of our killer. Finding his wallet, I open it up to find the driver's license and a business card, but that's about it.

"Vic's name is Terry Ackman, 44; he's the Supervisor of the Richmond County Sewers. Rigor has just set in so he's been dead for only a little more than two hours. "

While I examine the body, Stella is processing the scene. I see the flashes of her camera out of the corner of my eye.

"Doesn't look like there is a lot to work with. Very little of the area has been disturbed. The lack of evidence suggests that this is our secondary crime scene. It looks like Mr. Ackman was dumped here." I continue focusing on the body but nod my head anyways.

After a while, I finish my examination and turn to the ME's. "Alright, take the body to Dr. Hammerback. He'll perform the autopsy in the morning."

They take him away and I go to help Stella with the scene. Although there isn't much to go on it still takes a while. You can never be too careful when it comes to processing a scene. Often times, it is the littlest detail that proves to be the most important.

While Stella and I work, a small crowd of people have gathered around. I always find it rather odd that people stare and gawk while we do our work, especially at this hour. They are curious onlookers to a rather macabre spectacle. I try to mostly ignore them. To me, they are just a group of faces, none familiar and none relevant.

Finally, we finish up. Stella drives me back to my place while I sit in the passenger seat. Watching the city go by, seeing its bright lights and somewhat busy streets even at this hour. I catch a reflection of my face in the window and I'm slightly surprised at how tired and haggard I look. It's proof I haven't slept well in days. I haven't failed to notice the looks that the others have been giving me; not to subtle hints to get some rest.

But, this is my problem, to be dealt with on my own time. Right now we have a job to do. Right now, a mother, or wife or friend just lost their son, husband, or friend. We owe it to them, and Mr. Ackman, to find out who did this to him.

Because that person is still out there too.

***

He walked back to the alley almost an hour after leaving it. The first movement was done, and it was a complete success. The Lord of the Underworld had been purified of his false ways. The good news was that he was just the first. With each one that was corrected from their waywardness, he came closer and closer to completing the work.

While he was back at scene, he didn't fail to notice something rather odd. One of the people who were in the area where he placed the Lord of the Underworld looked familiar. Could it be? He would have to check, and if it was, then his task became much simpler. In time, they too would be taught a proper lesson.

That person, if it is them, would need to be purified. Despite his most fervent desire, he would have to wait. Acting too quickly would arouse suspicion, and if he was going to complete the work, suspicion was the last thing he needed. If necessary, he would create a diversion, although he would loathe doing such a thing.

Before it came to that, there were several more to go, and the Mystic was next.

_Hope you all like it so far. There is more to come._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Thank you all who read the first chapter, I really appreciate it. In this one, I introduce one of my OC's who I hope will appear in any other stories I might write. Not a lot of action here though. I'll post Chapter 3 before Thanksgiving._

**Wherein a new person joins our cast of characters and a certain Medical Examiner's results along with the evidence falsely seem to close the case. **

Later that morning, after attempting and failing to get some sleep, I'm at the Lab.

Everything about this place, the hum of the computers pouring out data, the swirling of chemicals in various tests, the unraveling of mysteries, it makes me feel at home. Much more so than my apartment. Too many memories, even now.

Stella has gone to process what little we took from the crime scene. I get to go see if Sid is ready with the autopsy. Waiting for the elevator I hear a very distinct voice calling for me.

"Mornin Mac."

"Morning Tom."

The voice belongs to Thomas Hayes; the official legal counsel for the Crime Lab, our lawyer. Tom is a former ADA who transferred over to the Crime Lab. In addition to his legal duties, Tom acts as our chief administrative officer. He's also great at playing politics, which I refuse to do. Tom's Southern accent is very thick, and this has led countless people to think he is harmless or a bit slow. Big mistake. Tom is one of the smartest, most ruthless people I've ever met. He can quote obscure cases and undercut a politician with ease. Tom and I came to an agreement when I hired him. He takes care of the paperwork, the politics, and the legal issues, and I get to focus on actually being a CSI.

"Where you headed boss?"

"Autopsy. Hopefully Sid is finished with our vic from Staten Island."

"I'll go with yall; I need to talk to him about a couple things."

We get into the elevator. The air-conditioner in it is on the fritz making the ride stuffy and very uncomfortable. I look over and wonder how Tom is so unbothered by the heat, especially since he is wearing his usual three-piece suit.

"Aren't you hot at all Tom?"

"Not really. In North Florida, heat and humidity are the norm. You get used to it."

"Right." We make it down to autopsy, which is mercifully cool.

"Gentlemen." It's Sid, standing over Mr. Ackman. "You don't come down to visit this time of day very often Mr. Hayes. Something the matter?"

"No, but I have to tell you Sid that you are being called as an expert witness in the Allens trial next Tuesday."

"I thought that case was done with."

"It should be, but the defense attorney is trying everything to create reasonable doubt. I wouldn't worry."

"Anything else?"

"Just some paperwork; I need a copy of your report on the Tolen case."

"I can get that to you."

"Thanks Sid. See yall later."

Tom heads back to the elevator and I turn my attention to the ME.

"So, what do you have for me Sid?"

"I have a couple of things, starting with COD. It's a rather simple one; cyanide. Your victim ingested it in a diluted form, most likely mixed with a drink. Sounds like the revenge of Jim Jones to me.

"Anything else?"

"Stomach content. He ate a steak, some green beans and what appears to be a piece of pie, strawberry to be exact."

"A full dinner. What about drinks?"

"A glass of wine with dinner and later some orange juice."

"Orange juice? That doesn't make sense. Do you have a separate sample of the juice?"

"Got it for you here." He hands me the sample.

"Good, we'll run it through tox."

"Are you looking at suicide Mac?"

"That's what I'm leaning towards now, but we'll see what Stella was able to get from the crime scene."

***

At the same time Mac is seeing Sid about the autopsy, Mrs. Ackman came by to identify the body of her husband. Since Stella is busy processing the evidence from the crime scene, so Danny meets with the widow.

"Mrs. Ackman?" He asks of the middle-aged woman.

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Detective Messer; can I ask you a couple of questions?"

"When can I see my husband?"

"In just a bit, I promise, but I need to ask you a couple of questions first."

"Okay, what kind of questions?"

"Where were you and your husband last night?"

"We went out to dinner which took about an hour, and then to a concert at Carnegie Hall for a couple of hours. After that, we were driving home and he said he received a phone call about something at the office. He dropped me off before going to deal with the issue. He sometimes has to work nights so I didn't have too many concerns, but then I got a phone call to come down here."

"Mrs. Ackman was your husband upset about anything? Under any kind of unusual stress?"

"Yes he was. Since the economy went south, Terry has had to make budget cuts. That included laying some people off. He ran a very tight-knit department and each time he had to tell someone that they couldn't work there anymore, it really upset him, even depressed him. Oh God! Detective, do you think that Terry might have… might have…? I can't even say it."

"We are still investigating. Did any of these people he let go have a grudge against him?"

"No, no one had anything but good things to say about Terry. The people who he had to fire didn't hold it against him at all. They blamed the City and the economy more than Terry. Now, when can I see my husband?"

"Right this way Mrs. Ackman."

***

I leave autopsy and head up the elevator. In the hallway, I see Danny leading who I assume is Mrs. Ackman to the elevator and down to the morgue. I go into the lab where Stella is waiting for me.

"Find anything Stella?"

"Out of the very little we had to work with at the crime scene? The answer would be a no I'm afraid. The skin you found under Mr. Ackman's fingernails didn't get any hits in our databases. Very little of the area was disturbed. Based on all the evidence we have, I have to say it was suicide Mac."

"That's what all the evidence is saying."

"Do you have any doubts?"

"I'm curious as to where he got the orange juice from."

"There were a lot of stores in the area; he probably got it from one of them."

One of the younger technicians comes in and hands Stella a file.

"It's the tox report on the orange juice. Confirms that there were traces of cyanide in it. He killed himself by ingesting cyanide-laced orange juice."

I try and think of anything that could puncture her argument, but there isn't anything. Everything says Ackman killed himself, but I have a nagging feeling that something is wrong. Still with nothing else to go on, we have to close this case.

She can read the lingering doubt on my face. "You always tell us to follow the evidence Mac, and this is where it is leading us. Mr. Ackman committed suicide."

I give up. "Alright Stella, I'll put in my report that it was suicide. Nothing disproves it."

"We can't save them all Mac."

"I guess you're right Stella. I guess you're right."


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Thanks to everyone who has been so kind in reading thus far. I was going to take a little longer in writing this chapter, but creativity hit, so here it is. I'll post Chapter 4 before Thanksgiving._

**Wherein some time has passed and our villain has more victories. However, he unknowingly makes a mistake that puts our heroes on his trail.**

He is in a triumphant mood. His plans for The Mystic had gone perfectly. So had his plans for The Magician, and the Bringer of Old Age. He had just finished dealing with the Bringer of Joy earlier in the week. Next up is the Winged Messenger. The police have done nothing. They have no idea what he is up to. He is moving even quicker to the center. After he is done with the Winged Messenger, there will only be two left. With each new one that is put in their place, his sense of accomplishment grows more and more. He is more than half-way done with his task. More than half the wrongs have been righted and more than half the impure have been purified.

He had tried hard, but he still can't confirm if he had seen who he had thought he had seen at the first spot. It hardly matters. He has written down the name and knows who it is. He can't wait to get to them.

***

Practically a month has gone by. Despite my initial feeling of unease, the Ackman case is quickly forgotten. It isn't cold-heartedness, just the nature of the job. He was another unfortunate soul who couldn't handle the pressures his job had put on him.

Still, life goes on, and unfortunately, crime goes on as well. Stella and Hawkes went to deal with a scene in central Queens this morning while Lindsay and I dealt with a home invasion and murder in Brooklyn. Life goes on.

I'm back in the Lab, waiting on a ballistics test from my scene in Brooklyn when there is a knock on my glass door. It's Hawkes.

"Mac, you have a minute?"

"Sure Sheldon. Something wrong?"

"Not really, but I need your signature on this report."

"What's this for?"

"The case that Stella and I went to in Queens." He hands me the file and I quickly scan through it.

"The victim, a Mr. Al Ramirez, died from ingesting a diluted form of cyanide." Further down, I read two words that I never thought would make me fearful.

"He drank cyanide-laced orange juice." _Orange juice._ The Ackman case comes racing back to the top of my mind.

I get up from my desk and motion for Hawkes to follow. We head to the elevator and I hurriedly press the button taking us down to autopsy. Sid is at his computer, typing up a report.

"Sid is that your report on the Ramirez case?"

"Yes it is. I was just about to declare it in the report as a suicide. What's the problem?"

"Sid delete that report. Ramirez didn't commit suicide, he was murdered."

"Murdered? Why do you say that Mac?"

"Orange juice."

"Orange juice? You're going to have to be a little more specific than that."

"Sid, the Ackman case of a month ago. Mr. Ackman died from ingesting cyanide-laced orange juice, the same as Ramirez."

"But Mac, they were found in very different sections of the City. Ackman was on the southern tip of Staten Island, Ramirez in central Queens. That's a lot of ground to cover. Plus, they didn't seem to know each other. Ackman was head of the Staten Island sewer department, and Ramirez was a local stand-up comedian. Maybe it is just a coincidence?"

"I don't believe in coincidences Sheldon. Everything is connected, and these two murders are no exception. Sid, go through some of your recent reports. Find every case involving suicide by cyanide ingestion going back to the time we found Ackman."

"If you want me to, sure Mac."

"Hawkes help Sid out and then go up to Tom's office and get any documents relating to the cases you find."

"You got it."

Leaving them both looking rather confused, I head back, this time using the stairs, taking the extra time to think. We missed something, there is no other explanation. I knew there was a reason I doubts about the Ackman case. I still hold out a fleeting hope I'm wrong.

I get up to my floor and run into Lindsay.

"Oh Mac, I'm glad I found you. We got some information from the shooting in Brooklyn."

"Lindsay, I'm taking myself off this case. Get Danny to help you with it. I'll send him everything I collected from the scene."

"Is there something wrong Mac?"

"I think so. Do you know where Stella is?"

"Yeah, she needed to see Adam to have some help with a case."

"Thanks."

I leave her just as confused as I left Hawkes and Sid. I need to find Stella. I need to find my partner. She'll know if there is something going on, or if I'm chasing ghosts.

I find her and Adam in front of a computer as he hands her a print out.

"Stella, I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"The Ramirez case." It takes some time to explain to her my suspicions. She listens intently, not saying anything until I finish.

"So that's it. I'm still waiting for Hawkes and Sid to come up with their list and I've assigned Danny to the Brooklyn case. Once Hawkes gives me the list, then I'll make my determination."

"It sounds like you've already come to a conclusion Mac."

"I hope I'm wrong."

"When it comes to this, you usually aren't."

My phone rings, it's Hawkes. I quickly answer it.

"Mac, since the time of Ackman's death, there has been a total of 13 suicides by cyanide poisoning."

"Oh God" I mutter under my breath.

"There's a caveat though" he says quickly. "Five of those suicides took place in the person's home. If we are using the Ramirez and Ackman cases as a framework, then it would be out of character for a killer to deal with a person in their own home."

"It doesn't matter. Send all 13 files up to my office."

"No problem." I hang up the phone.

"Stella, you're with me on this one. Go over whatever evidence we collected from these scenes. I'll call Flack and have him interview the victims' families to see if there are any other connections. I'll stick with the documents. We are going to find out what is going on before anyone else gets hurt."

_Hope everyone enjoyed it. Much more to come._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_I've truly been humbled by the great response I've been getting. This chapter is a little longer than I intended, but the information is very important. I keep saying this, but I'll have the next chapter up before Thanksgiving (Nov. 26__th__ for my readers outside of the U.S.)_

**Wherein our heroes manage to uncover our villain's sinister plans, but not before another victim is added to the list, and he still is not done.**

Stella finds herself taking a much needed coffee break. She had been in the lab for several hours, going over evidence, not holding out much hope. She listened to Mac's explanation, but as time goes on, she finds herself more and more believing that he is imagining things.

Sipping her coffee in the break room, Stella tries to think through well, everything. Mostly though, she thinks about her partner. She always gets worried when Mac acts like this. He thinks he missed something and he blames himself, and carries that blame around, letting it gnaw at him. Even more than that, she can see how focused and relentless he is being. Maybe even obsessive. Stella almost pities anyone who gets on the wrong side of him. Almost.

She hears the distinct sound of shoes on the floor and sees that Danny is coming to talk with her.

"Hey Stel."

"Hey Danny."

"Long day?"

"One of the longest I've had in recent memory. Adam's been helping me in the lab, going through what we collected from the scenes."

"What are you looking to find?"

"At this point, who knows? Mac told me that we were looking for anything that might connect these deaths together, but as far as I can tell, there isn't anything."

"Have you told Mac?"

"I haven't even _seen_ him for hours. He's shut himself away in his office."

"You should go talk to him."

"I want to Danny, but it won't make any difference. You know how he gets."

"Stel, if there is anyone in the world who he'll listen to, it's you."

She takes another sip of coffee. "I guess you're right. At the very least he needs to talk to someone."

"Good luck."

She makes her way to his office, and looking inside, she isn't surprised at all by what she sees.

He's still at his desk, pouring over still more files, pausing only to jot down notes. He looks very tired, but in his eyes, she can see an iron determination. For a moment, she just stands there, watching him. He appears to be in his own world.

***

_Fr. Orel, 52, died by cyanide poisoning. Found in eastern Staten Island…_

_ Dr, Hamstead, 49, died by cyanide poisoning. Found in the western part of Brooklyn…_

_ Mr. Theeds, 53, died by cyanide poisoning. Found in the northern Bronx…_

I'm on my second run through of each file. Now that I'm familiar with the cases, I've separated them into three groups. I put five of them in the "definitely not" pile, five including the Ackman and Ramirez cases, in the "maybe" pile and I still have three to go. I haven't gotten up from this desk since I started, and I told myself I wouldn't until I've figured this out.

So far, all my "maybe" cases have been middle-aged men who were found in semi-public areas and drank something cyanide laced. All but one took place on the southern side of the city.

_What connects all of them?_ That is the main question I wrote done when I started this process. So far, I haven't found any and it is getting irritating. I feel that the answer is staring me in the face, but I can't see it.

The door to my office opens and Stella comes inside, holding two cups of coffee.

"You look like you could use some." She hands me a cup.

"Thanks." I reply gratefully, taking a sip.

"Find anything?" She asks me.

"I'm going through the files for a second time. Right now I have five maybes and five no's with three left."

"Maybe's?"

"Yeah maybe's." I look up from my papers at her. The look she is giving me tells me why she is here.

"You think this is a waste of time?"

"It isn't that, it's just, I'm worried about you. We all are. You haven't left this office in hours."

"I need to figure this out Stel. I'm not leaving here until I do."

"What if there is nothing?"

"I know there is." I say with conviction. "Look at these two files." I hand her two from my maybe pile. "Mr. Ackman and Fr. Orel were both mentioned within a week of each other in the _Post_, and they were found within ten days of each other within the same borough. Ramirez was mentioned a few days after a Dr. Pollard and they were found in relatively close proximity."

"Wait, where exactly was every body found?"

I pull up a map on my computer with a red bullet point where each person was found. Thirteen red points, along with the date the body was found light up

"There, look at that." She points to five dots. "Look at the dates on those five bodies. Ackman was first, then ten days later Fr. Orel. Eight days after that Dr. Hamstead and a week after him was Dr. Pollard. Finally, Mr. Ramirez was six days later."

I delete the dots except the five she pointed out. Now it's jumping out at me. They are forming an arch that is getting closer to the center of Manhattan.

"This is it Stella." I say in recognition. "Look at the distance between each of the victims. It's too precise to be random." I quickly head back to my file stacks. One of the maybes is thrown out and the last of the ones I had to go through replaces it. That pile is no longer maybe, it's yes now.

I pick up the phone and call Flack, giving him all the information we've collected and asking him to go back and question people involved in the five cases.

***

"Mrs. Pollard, I need to talk to you again."

The widow looks at him with sad, bitter eyes. "What for? Detective Flack, you already told me that my husband killed himself. What more do you need to say to me?"

"Mrs. Pollard…"

"Have you ever lost anyone you love Detective?" She asks sharply.

Flack looks away from her. Quietly, he mutters "Yes." He knows the pain she is going through. The terrible pain of loss; because he is going through it too. He has for months.

"Then you understand." She almost nods in approval, as if she will only talk to him now because of that. "What are your questions detective?"

Before questioning her, Flack feels compelled to tell her that they are reconsidering classifying her husband's death as a homicide. She looks shocked, but also a bit relieved.

"I knew Bill wouldn't kill himself." She says firmly. "We are good Catholics; suicide is a mortal sin. Bill would never do something so against Church law."

"Mrs. Pollard did you or your husband do anything different in the days before he died?"

"No, nothing that I can think of."

"Did you go somewhere out of the ordinary? Maybe a different restaurant or something along that line."

She looks away for a minute to think. "Actually yes, Bill and I went to a concert."

Flack's ears perk up. This isn't the first time today he has heard this phrase. "If you don't mind me asking Mrs. Pollard, which concert was it?"

The answer is the same one he has heard several times today.

"Finally, Mrs. Pollard how did you and your husband come by the tickets?"

Again the answer is the same. Flack doesn't need to be a scientist to get the connection.

"Thank you Mrs. Pollard." He gets up to leave, but she touches his arm.

"Detective, please find out who did this to my husband. Make sure that no one else has to live through this."

"I will Mrs. Pollard. I promise."

He leaves her apartment and makes his way back to the lab. He needs to tell Mac and his team what he's found.

***

"Taylor."

"Mac, I'm sorry, but it's another one."

"Are you sure?"

"It looks like it yes."

"Who's the vic?"

"Mr. Horatio Miller, age 56, a delivery company executive. He's married and has two kids."

"Damn. Keep up on it Lindsay, let me know if you find anything."

"You got it Mac. We just finished processing so we're on our way back." She hangs up.

I should be at the scene, but Flack called me before Lindsay did. He needed to tell me about a potential break in the case. Unfortunately, traffic is bad this time of day, and I'm cooling my heels in my office while Flack tries to get over here.

Another victim. That puts us up to six killed by this particular killer, whoever they may be. We have made some progress; we know that they are out there, their method of killing, and the pattern they are using to dispose of their victims, but that's about it. We still don't know who this person is, how they are choosing their victims, and what possible motive they might have.

After sometime, I see Flack coming up to my office. My patience short and I vent some of that onto Flack.

"This had better be good Don. Lindsay called and said there has been another victim."

"Another one?"

"I'm afraid so. What's this information Don?"

"When I was talking with the significant others of our victims and the head pastor at Fr. Orel's church, one distinct, common trait kept coming up. All the victims attended a classical music concert. It was Gustav Holst's _The Planets_. On top of that, they all got free tickets to this concert."

"_The Planets_?"

"Yeah. I'm no classic music person; does that mean anything to you?"

"Once Stella and Lindsay get here, we need to assemble the whole team in the conference room."

Some more time passes, and Stella and Lindsay get back to the Lab. Flack helps me get everyone in the conference room. The whole team is here; even Tom and Sid have shown up. Once everyone is situated I tell Flack to inform everyone of what he's found out.

Danny speaks up first. "So what's the importance of the concert?"

Flack shrugs his shoulders. Everyone looks at me.

"It's the music. That's how our killer is choosing their victims, by the music in _The Planets_. Gustav Holst wrote 7 movements in this piece and later on, an eighth movement was added for Pluto. Each of our victims represents one of the planets and the mythology associated with that planet. Mr. Ackman, the supervisor of the Richmond County Sewer System, is supposed to be Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld. Fr. Orel, a priest, is Neptune the Mystic. Dr. Hamstead the professor at NYU is Uranus the Magician, or Bringer of Knowledge. Dr. Pollard, an MD, is Saturn the Bringer of Old Age. Mr. Ramirez, a comedian, is Jupiter the Bringer of Joy. Finally, Mr. Miller, a delivery executive, is Mercury the Winged Messenger."

"The order doesn't make sense though."

"It does by the music of the piece. Holst didn't start with Mercury; he started with Mars, since it is closest to Earth. Our killer is moving backwards, getting closer to the Earth. He started with Pluto and will end with Mars. Since there was no movement for Earth, that means there are still two victims out there; Venus the Bringer of Peace and Mars the Bringer of War."  
"Wait a minute." Lindsay stands up, having her own epiphany. "Look at where the bodies were discovered. Ackman was found at the extreme edge of Staten Island. Mr. Miller was found in northern Queens. The other four have been in between them. Each victim is drawing closer and closer to the center of the city, like the planets drawing closer and closer to Earth."

"So how did our killer know the victims were going to the concert?" Adam asks.

Flack jumps in. "Apparently Carnegie Hall distributed 100 free tickets as a publicity stunt. They picked 100 random New Yorkers and mailed them their tickets."

I take over again. "Stella, you and Lindsay focus on the Miller case. Adam, help them with the evidence they got from Queens. Flack and Hawkes, get two lists from Carnegie Hall: one, the people who attended the concert with the free tickets. Second, a list of people who had access to that first list. Tom, if Carnegie is reluctant to part with the lists, get us a subpoena. Danny and I will interview the people on those lists. All other cases are to be put aside until we find this guy. There are still two more victims out there and we need to find this guy before he goes after Venus and Mars."

_Hope everyone is still enjoying it. More to come._


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_As always thanks to everyone who has been reading this. I really do appreciate it. I deliberately left a few things vague in this chapter to add to the suspense. As for my now familiar promise, I'll hedge it a bit; I probably will post the next chapter before Thanksgiving, but if things get too hectic, it will be done before this time next week. Please read and review if you so choose._

**Wherein one of our heroes comes face-to-face with our villain, who decides that his work must end. Soon. **

He couldn't wait any longer. He is so very close to completing his work. There are only two left. He can't stop. So close.

The police have finally noticed which is very irritating. They _must not_ mess everything up. He has come too far to be stopped now. Once he is done with this annoyance, he will go and deal with Venus. He has a good idea as to what they are looking for, but he has already covered his tracks. The police will not know until it is too late. Especially Mars.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"We're ready to begin the interview if you don't mind."

"Very well."

***

"Mr. Clinton, why did Carnegie Hall choose the 100 random New Yorkers to get free tickets to _The Planets_ concert?"

"I, Mr. Ignis, Mr. Watson and Mr. Gerrys were discussing a good way of getting more people to come to the concert. As you might expect, sales have been down for the year so we needed to do something. Then, Mr. Gerrys thought of randomly giving 100 New Yorkers the chance to go a free concert. Our logic was that they would all bring a guest, who would have to pay of course, and when they had a good experience, they would come back for later shows."

"So how did you choose who got the tickets?"

"It wasn't as random as we made it out to be Detective. We had some of our interns and p.r. staff research who would most likely come. We didn't want to waste 100 tickets after all."

"How did your people research them?"  
"Newspapers mostly. We found people who had recently appeared in the _Times_ and the _Post_ as human interest articles and decided that which ones would be good choices."

"How many people knew the full content of the list?"

"Just myself, Mr. Ingis, Mr. Gerrys, and Mr. Watson."

"Thank you Mr. Clinton. Now, I just need the list and a sample of your DNA."

"My DNA? What in God's name for?"

"We have a sample of the killer's DNA, and we are going to see if there are any matches. You're cooperation will be appreciated."

"I most certainly will not Detective! I had nothing to do with these crimes and I will not hand over a sample of my DNA. If you want it, you will have to talk to my lawyer."

"We will Mr. Clinton."

***

"This is an outrage! How dare you sit there and accuse me of murder!"  
"Mr. Gerrys no one is accusing you of anything. We just want to find this killer before they hurt another person."

"My alibi will check out Detective. That's all you need to know."

***

"Mr. Watson, please, your cooperation will be very helpful to our investigation."

"My job is not to make your investigation easy Detective."

"Mr. Watson, six people have already been murdered."

"And if the NYPD had been doing a better job, this wouldn't be happening."

***

Mr. Ingis, every one of your colleagues has refused to cooperate with our investigation. Agreeing to help will make you look much better to the NYPD."

"Is that a threat Detective?"  
"Not at all. But our lawyer is already working on the necessary paperwork to get a subpoena. Cooperating will save everyone time and headache."

"Well, then there will be time wasted and several headaches. Take some Advil Detective; you are going to need it."

***

He finished up his interview with the police. Luckily, it wasn't the one he would soon deal with. They still have no clue as to who he is. He talked with one of his colleagues, they had all refused to cooperate with the police, for which he is very relieved. That will buy him just enough time to complete his work.

He is so close.

***

I leave the interrogation room frustrated and angry. Stella, Flack, Lindsay and I took each of the four suspects and interrogated them at the same time, to prevent them from coordinating their stories. None of them agreed to help us with the DNA tests. I already called Tom to get him to prepare a legal brief for the subpoenas we need, but that will take time. Time, I'm afraid we don't have.

***

"Please, why are you doing this?" She is crying now, fearful tears running down her face.

"You must be taught the error of your ways Venus." The music is playing. It is gentle music. No anger, no violent notes. In fact, it is a… peaceful sound.

"But… but… I didn't do anything to you. I run a spa! I haven't hurt anyone!"

"None of your customers have true peace. You failed them. You must pay."

"Please don't hurt me."

He shakes his head. She doesn't understand. None of them ever understood. He's sure Mars won't understand either.

"Don't worry my dear. This won't hurt a bit, just have something to drink."

The last bit of music plays. It is the soft sound of angelic bells.

Venus is now at peace.

***

I'm on my way to a scene in the central Bronx. From the sound of Flack's call it isn't good. I have a dreadful certainty of what we are going to find. This case is taking a toll on me; we've made progress, but it has stalled out. I spent half the morning on the phone with Sinclair, reassuring him that we are working on this. He is near panic mode that the press will catch wind of this, and cause a firestorm.

I pull up to the scene and get out of the car. Danny hails me over to the body. His face is grim.

"Another one?"

"I'm afraid so boss."

"Damn it, this has got to stop."

"It's a woman this time."

"I'm not surprised."

"_Venus?_"

"It seems to be."

We crouch down and examine the body. _Venus_ _the Bringer of Peace_. Victim number seven. Even though the killer knows that we are on to them, he still tried to masquerade the murder as a suicide.

"Vic's name is Valerie Davis, age 43. She owns the _Peace of Mind_ spa located here in the Bronx."

I begin processing the scene and I notice something in our vic's hair. It looks like a carpet fiber. Our killer made a mistake; in their haste to finish the job, they left some evidence behind.

This might be the break we need.

***

The end of another long day doesn't bring any closure. In my opinion we've failed. Seven people have been killed by this person and there is still one more potential victim out there; _Mars the Bringer of War_.

The carpet fiber has been analyzed. It is from a cheap carpet, and not a match for our vic's home, car or work. Unfortunately, we'll have to wait for the morning to hear if the judge is going to issue the subpoena we requested. For now, it's another dead-end. I've been reading the analysis for too long; the words and numbers are starting to blur together.

There's a knock at my door, but I don't look up. "Come in."

"Hey Mac." It's Stella. There is a concern in her voice that I pick up on.

"Is there something wrong Stella?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"No. Why?"

"It's nearly midnight, and I know for a fact you didn't leave here last night. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine Stel, really. I just need to look over this test one more time. Maybe there is something we…" I stop and unsuccessfully try to stifle a rather loud yawn mid-sentence. Bad timing on my part.

She brings up her hand and stops me before I can start up again. "Mac, you can't keep going on like this. Just being here doesn't make you productive. Go home, get some sleep and come back with a fresh perspective tomorrow."

I'm finding it very hard to argue with her. Partly because of fatigue, and partly because I know she's right; it's just a matter of me accepting the facts.

Sighing in resignation I look in her eyes. "Alright Stella. You win, but I promise I'll be here first thing in the morning."

She doesn't back down, but is smiling nonetheless. "Mac, you don't _need_ to be here at the crack of dawn. Stay home and actually sleep more than five hours. It will do you good."

"I'm not going to make that promise, but I am heading home."

"So am I."

"I'll walk you out."

We both head downstairs and leave the Lab, saying our good-byes.

***

He sits out in the car, watching and waiting. He sees the two of them leaving the building together. _How romantic_ he sneers to himself. One of them heads in one direction, and he ignores them, but the other own, he follows.

Soon he will have Mars, and the symphony will be complete.

_Hope this kept your interest. A showdown is coming up next._


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well, this certainly came to me quicker than I expected, but ideas hit when ideas hit. Please read and review if you so choose. Hope everyone is still enjoying it._

**Wherein a shocking event stops everything, and everyone. All the cards get reshuffled and a new game begins, with potential deadly consequences for one of our heroes.**

He looks down at his unconscious victim. This one struggled more than the others, but that isn't surprising. After all, they are the Bringer of War, it's logical that they would fight. He is disappointed that he left a cut on Mars's head, but it's minor.

Getting off his victim's back, he is grateful that they were close to the parking lot where his car is. Luckily, there is still no one around. For a minute, he catches his breath and prepares for the next phase. He crouches down on his knees and goes through Mars's pockets, finding a cell phone. He decides to use it to leave a little surprise for the Bringer of War's friends. His message complete, he tosses the phone into a bush. He picks up and carries the unconscious body to the parking lot and stuffs it in the car. He doesn't notice the small drop of blood drip onto the pavement.

After a quick car ride they are at his place. It is in central Manhattan, but not one of the nicer apartments. Most of the people who live here are on vacation right now; the building is practically empty. He takes Mars out of the car, giving the appearance of helping a friend who has had too much to drink. After getting in the building, he drops the façade, instead, dragging them down the stairs to the basement. Taking out a rope, he ties them to the support beam and blindfolds them.

Initially, he was going to just give the cyanide and be done with it, but he decided not to. This is the last one needed to complete the symphony, the grand finale. According to the newspapers, Mars is far more interesting than the others. He's going to talk with them and then give the Bringer of War a far more violent, appropriate punishment than a mere injection.

But first, there will be a fascinating conversation.

***

The coffee has finished brewing in the break room, and Hawkes gratefully pours himself a cup. It's very rare that he gets the first cup of a new pot. Usually by this time, Mac and Stella are already in the office on their second cup each. Odd though, neither of them is here yet. Probably stuck in Manhattan traffic.

The Planets Killer is still the main focus of the Lab. The time between the death of Mercury and Venus indicates that the killer is speeding up, getting closer and closer to finishing his work. They need to find him.

Coffee in hand, Hawkes starts heading towards one of the rooms in the Lab. People are still filtering in for the day, preparing to get started on the new day of work. Sid is down in autopsy, and Danny and Lindsay are still at home. Hawkes would be jealous the two of them getting to sleep in, but he knows with a baby, they were probably up before he was. Tom is at the courthouse. He somehow managed to drag Judge Reynolds out of bed to hear the Lab's request for a subpoena. If they get the subpoena, it will be very helpful in their investigation.

At one of the computers, Adam is already there. Hawkes has to hide a smile as Adam had already rearranged the Lab the way it had been before Haylen's shift.

"Find anything new Adam?"

"Actually I did. You know that fiber that Mac found on Mrs. Davis?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I ran it through our databases. It's from a car. More specifically, a 2005 Chevy Cobalt. The thing of it is, Valerie Davis didn't own one, but Dr. Hamstead, the guy who's supposed to be Uranus, he did. The fiber must have transferred from the Doctor to our killer to Valerie Davis. "

"That's good Adam. Does anyone else know?"

"I've wanted to tell Mac or Stella, but neither of them is here yet."

"I just got here."

They turn around.

In comes Stella, looking a little irritated. "Sorry about being late. There was an accident on the Brooklyn Bridge and traffic was terrible. Where's Mac?"

"Don't know, he hasn't made it in yet."

"Maybe he's caught in the traffic?" Adam suggests.

"Or maybe he's finally catching up on some sleep." Hawkes says.

"I'm going to give him a call. Just to see what's going on." She finds her cell phone and presses the first number on her speed dial. It rings, and rings, and rings. No answer. _Come on Mac; pick up the phone_. She starts to get worried. After the final ring, Stella is preparing to leave a message when his voice mail doesn't come up. Instead, she starts hearing the strains of music. Classical music. It is an angry, violent sound. In fact, it's almost…warlike.

"Oh no" her heart is racing even faster.

"You two, listen to this." She puts it on speaker phone. The music is playing loudly now. It can even be heard in the hallway.

Sid is walking by with a file in his hand, but when he hears the music he races in. He looks at her cell phone, and sees who she is calling. He drops the file he is holding and his face turns whiter than his hair.

"What is this Sid? Please tell me it isn't what I think it is." Her heart is practically pounding in her chest. A terrible feeling is washing over her. Deep down she already knows the answer.

"That's the first movement in _The Planets_ Stella. That's _Mars the Bringer of War_."

***

The bastard got me.

I was jogging early in the morning, trying to clear my head and found my way into Central Park. I'm in my jogging clothes, and I didn't bring my gun. I had stopped to catch my breath when something bashed into the back of my head. I fell to the ground and before I could do anything except throw a couple of elbows, he covered my face with a cloth: chloroform. When he did that, I had no chance.

I've awakened to darkness and a headache. He blindfolded me and I feel a rope across my chest. I try moving my arms, but it's no use. Still, I desperately try to get myself free.

I hear a _thunk, thunk,_ noise from above. Someone is walking on stairs. He must be keeping me in a basement of some kind. The footsteps are getting closer. I swallow hard, and continue trying to get free.

"You're struggling is useless Mars. I tied that rope good and tight. You aren't getting away."

He's right; fighting this is almost pointless, but I'm not giving up that easily. I continue struggling.

A sharp blow strikes my head. "Stop that now Mars."

I comply, but that won't stop me from shooting off my mouth. "My name is Mac Taylor you son of a bitch."

I expect another hit, but none comes, at least not yet. "Of course that's your name Detective Taylor. I know all about you. You know, you certainly are a perfect candidate for Mars. You bring nothing but strife and discord to this City." Now he punches me in the stomach. My breathing is ragged.

"Why me? I didn't get a free ticket, I bought mine. What did I do to you?"

"Truth be told, I _wasn't_ targeting you Detective, at least at first. I had another person chosen as Mars, but then, I saw you purchasing your ticket and coming to the show. I had seen your face in the newspapers before. I read up on you, and you were a far better candidate for Mars than the person I chose. Especially when I saw you where I left Pluto. Do you know why you are such a good Mars Detective?"

I refuse to answer. I'm not playing his game.

"You Detective took an oath to serve and protect the people. YOU FAILED AN OATH!" He's yelling at me with pure rage in his voice.

"Not only that, but have broken that oath so egregiously; I know what happened with that Clay Dobson fellow. Despite what they say, I know what happened. You killed that man."

Another hit to the gut.

"I... didn't kill… Dobson."

"Stop lying! Let's not forget all the criminals still on the streets! What about the victims of crime? You didn't protect and serve them!" He hits me again in the chest.

"We can't stop everyone… we try."

"That's not good enough! You have failed in your duty Detective Taylor! For that, you are going to die!"

I can't tell if my eyes are open or not. Pain is flaring through my chest and head.

"Which one… who…are you?"

"Which one? I'm Ned Watson. I was very glad we didn't meet earlier when you hauled all of us in for interrogation. I told that rather beautiful partner of yours that if the NYPD was doing a better job, this would stop. You didn't, you failed. You must be punished, for this, and all of your transgressions. Who am I? I am the righter of wrongs. I'm here to set things in their proper order. With your death, the symphony will be complete, and the wrongs will be righted. The Planets will be complete."

I save enough of my energy to try and defy the bastard one more time. "My team will find me."

He slaps me across the face. "Don't be a fool. They fail just as often as you do. No, the Planets will be completed long before your friends get here."

I hear him move away from me. There is a _thunk _from him placing a foot on the stairs, but after that I hear nothing. I have a very bad feeling. The footsteps are getting louder again. I can hear the sound of his breathing. Then, he does something I don't expect. He removes the blindfold. I get a look at my captor.

He is a rather unremarkable looking person. He's of average height, maybe just a little taller than me. He's not fat, but not skinny either. His nose and ears are of normal proportions. He's middle-aged, with no glasses or wrinkles. The only distinguishing features are his red hair and his eyes. Especially the eyes. It isn't their color; a bland shade of brown. It is the way he's looking at me. The look tells me something terrifying; he doesn't regard me as a fellow human being. From the look I get, I can tell he is a soulless man.

"I'm sure you are wondering why I took off the blindfold Detective. Well, I'm actually a curious person. With the others, they were blindfolded when I delivered justice upon them. I didn't get to look at them." He gets up and goes over to the corner and picks something up. It's a hammer. A chill goes down my spine.

He casually pats the head of the hammer into his hand. "You know, they say that the eyes are windows to the soul. I want to look into the Bringer of War's soul while he breathes his last. I want to look into your soul as you die Detective."

_More to come. Stay tuned._


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Wow, I must say I was very impressed with the reaction I got for my last chapter. It's deeply humbling. Think of this as my Thanksgiving gift._

**Wherein the curtain draws to a close on our villain while our heroes discover his last, most terrible act.**

Danny and Lindsay rush through the traffic heading towards the Lab. Stella called them and said it was urgent. They had to call the babysitter early, but from Stella's tone, neither of them was inclined to argue.

After parking their car, the two heads to the building when a tall, bespectacled man hails them. It's Tom, waving a paper in his hand.

"Wait up yall!" He calls out as he makes his way to them.

"I thought you two had this morning off. Something wrong?"

"We got a call from Stella saying she needed us at the Lab immediately. What's the paper?"

"It's a gift from Judge Reynolds. A subpoena for the list from Carnegie Hall."

"That's good. It sounds like we're finally making progress on this case."

"I hope so."  
The three of them make their way to the elevator and up to the Lab.

Inside they find chaos.

Stella is sharply giving out orders. A bunch of uniforms are questioning people, and Adam has a map of Manhattan up on the screen with dots on it.

"What's going on Stel?"

The look the three new arrivals get stops them cold. There is a fire in her eyes that threatens to burn them where they stand.

"The Planets Killer kidnapped Mac."

"Shit, are you sure?"

"Definitely."

"Damn it." The three of them stand there and intake the information. Finally, Tom speaks up.

"Here's the subpoena for the list from Carnegie Stel." He nervously hands it to her.

"Thanks, but this is useless now. The ticket list isn't going to help us. Mac wasn't on it. He would have told us."

"Stella!" Adam yells over the din. Everyone races to him.

"I got a trace on Mac's cell. It's in Central Park."

"Central Park?"

"Yeah, the kidnapper must have left it there."

"Hawkes, you and I will get down to Central Park and find what we can. Call Flack and tell him to meet us down there. Lindsay, you and Danny head to Carnegie with that subpoena. Find out which one of our suspects didn't show up for work today. If they won't tell, then arrest them for obstruction. Adam, run the DNA again, through every database you can think of. If you have to hack into a couple, then do it. Tom get on the phone with the DA and Judge Reynolds; I want a search-warrant for anywhere that is connected to our four suspects. We are finding this guy before he can do anything to Mac."

They move out. As Stella gets to the car, her heart is racing even faster.

She and Hawkes speed down to Central Park. By the time they reach the area, Flack and some other officers are already there.

Flack is already up-to-date on what's going on. A couple of his people are interviewing some passersby.

"Stella, here it is." Hawkes picks up the phone. "No question, it's Mac's."

"So, if this guy attacked Mac, he'd probably have to sedate or drug him to take him away. The kidnapper probably had to carry him."

"There's a parking lot right there." Hawkes points in a direction. The three of them start making their way to the parking lot. On the way, Stella's sharp eyes spot a small stain on the pavement.

"You both come here, look at this." She points to the stain.

"Is that what I think it is?" Flack asks.

Hawkes offers a grim nod. "Yep, that's blood."

***

"You people are starting to get on my nerves. I'll get you that blasted list, it seems I don't have much choice, but that's it."

"Mr. Clinton, we don't have time for any stalling. Who hasn't shown up for work today?"

"Why? Are you going to harass some of my other employees?"

Danny loses his temper. "Listen you pompous ass, one of your employees is a serial killer and has kidnapped a member of the NYPD! We need to know and we need to know now!"

Clinton startles back, stunned at the words. "Good God."

"Who hasn't shown up for work today?"

"I can answer that." Ingis shows up. "Ned, Mr. Watson, he hasn't been to work today. He didn't call in either."

"Anyone else?"

"No, Mr. Gerrys is here as well."

Lindsay looks at Danny. "It's Watson, it has to be." He nods. She turns back to Ingis "where does Watson live?"

"I'll get you his address."

"Linds, I'm going to call Stella."

***

They meet back at the Lab. Everyone is there. Stella starts out. "The blood we found in Central Park is a match. It's Macs. The kidnapper must have attacked him in Central Park and drove him back to their place."

Lindsay speaks up "The killer is Ned Watson. All the other three men were at work today and have been all morning. And we got his address."

"Good. Everyone, gear up, we are going to arrest this guy and rescue Mac."

_We're coming for you Mac, just hold on, you'll be okay._ Stella tries to reassure herself, hoping he hears it too.

***

Blow after blow strikes me. Again and again; one strikes my chest, another hits my head. Several hit me in the throat, making breathing a painful chore. Sometimes, he doesn't use the head of the hammer; instead he uses the claw, which cuts and gashes my face and cheeks. I can barely hear the strains of music in the background.

Another hit to my chest, and I can't hold it in anymore. I cry out in agony and pain, but also in anger. I'm angry that got myself into this position, that I have no idea where I am and that this monster has murdered seven people. With the way things are going, it looks like an eighth is not far away.

_Keep fighting Taylor! Don't give up! They are coming for you! _I try telling myself. It's no use. He's won. I've failed myself and my team. My strength is gone. I'm lapsing in an out of consciousness and black splotches start appearing. My mind has come to a simple, devastating conclusion; I'm dying.

I give up the struggle.

The final note of the music is played.

I hope God is merciful when we meet.

***

Triumph.

The Bringer of War is no more.

He feels the raw energy of power. He has done it. He is master of eight worlds.

The Planets are complete.

***

The convoy going out to rescue Mac races through Manhattan. The rest of the traffic is smart enough to get out of the way. They are quickly coming up on the apartment. It isn't far from the Lab, and is in the center of Manhattan.

They burst through the building's front door. SWAT and the other uniforms fan out, searching for some sign of the killer, or his hostage.

Danny and Flack make their way to the basement door when it swings open. A thoroughly unremarkable man is at the doorway. He is of average height and average body proportions. His hair is red and there are no wrinkles on his face. He just doesn't _look_ like anyone important. He looks like one of the thousands of random faces everyone sees every day. He could be the person on the subway, or that guy at the local deli. He is almost unnoticeable.

However, what is very noticeable is the hammer. There are blood stains on the claw and the head. Very recent blood.

"NYPD drop your weapon!" Flack commands.

Watson offers a wry smile. "So, you are the friends of Mars? I'm afraid you are too late. All things must end, so too must the Bringer of War. The symphony is now complete. No matter what happens, I am master of eight worlds."

"Drop it!"

He complies. The hammer clatters to the floor and Flack swiftly proceeds to arrest the man.

The rest of them race down the basement stairs.

"Mac!" Stella shouts only once, but her voice is silenced when she fully takes in the sight before her.

There he is. Her partner, her boss, her friend. Mac. He is tied to a support beam and he's been beaten terribly. Blood is streaming from various wounds on his face, in between blue and black bruises. His white t-shirt has red stains on it. His head is hanging limp. He isn't moving. Stella can't even tell if he is breathing.

Hawkes rushes up to him, his medical training overtaking the revulsion he feels seeing his boss like this. He cuts the rope tying Mac to the beam, and gently lowers him to the ground. Hawkes checks for a heartbeat. What seems like an eternity passes. Finally, finally, he finds a pulse. It is weak, too weak, almost to the point of not being there at all.

"He's still alive, get EMS down here now!"

They come down bearing a stretcher. Very gently, Hawkes and Danny help the emergency personnel lift Mac onto the stretcher, careful not to exacerbate any internal injuries. They take him upstairs. Lindsay buries her face in Danny's chest and cries softly. Hawkes turns back to Stella.

She is just standing there, her eyes transfixed on the spot where he was tied up. She isn't crying, there aren't even silent tears. What Hawkes does see though, is the lack of her spark. Gone is the fierce determination when they were looking for him. Gone is her normal intensity. Seeing him barely hanging on to his life appears to have extinguished some of the life within her.

He comes up to her "Stel." His voice forces her to come back to this world from the dark realm she appeared to be in.

Hawkes presses on. "Stel, let's get out of here."

She says in a lifeless tone. "Okay Sheldon."

He leads her back up the stairs. Lindsay stifles anymore tears and leaves with Danny.

They head towards the hospital. And an uncertain future.

_Hope you like it. More still to come. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_As always, thanks to everyone who has read or is reading this. I really appreciate it as well as the very kind reviews this has been getting. Enjoy._

**Wherein waiting and hope are all that can be done and our fallen hero begins a strange journey in a strange place. **

Almost everyone is in the hospital, waiting for news. To Stella, this is in some ways worse than when they were looking for him. At least then she was coming and going, _doing_ something. The flurry of activity, it was better than just waiting here, praying that he makes it out of surgery. The head physician on his case, a Doctor Meyers, had come out before the operation and rattled off a list of Mac's injuries: broken ribs, a severe concussion, swelling of the cranium, just to start. His throat was also damaged. He was lucky in one small respect; Ned Watson had not hit Mac's chest in the right areas to endanger any vital organs. His head though, that was a different story. In addition to the concussion and the swelling there maybe some bleeding in his brain. He could be okay. Or he could be in a coma for the rest of his life. Or he could die in surgery or just right afterwards. Dr. Meyers said she simply didn't know how much permanent damage something like this could cause. She hasn't seen a case this bad in many, many years.

So, they wait. Lindsay had to tear herself away from waiting to go home and take care of Lucy, but Danny stayed. Stella is sitting between Flack and Hawkes, neither of them wanting to leave her by herself. Sid and Adam did come, waiting, like the rest of them. No one is saying much.

Tom just arrived and wants to be caught up. "Anyone care for some coffee?"

Hawkes gets up. "Sure."

The two friends make their way to the coffee machine, which is outside the private waiting room they are in. Someone else is getting themselves a cup, so the two of them wait in silence. The other person leaves, and doctor and lawyer pour themselves two cups of the black liquid.

Tom is dumping sugar into his. "Sheldon, you examined him at the scene right?"

Hawkes is stirring some cream. "Yeah, I did." They are talking in hushed tones, not wanting anyone else to hear.

Tom stops with the sugar. "What are his chances Doc? No bull."

Hawkes doesn't look up from his coffee. "Not good, not good at all. I almost couldn't find a pulse when we first found him. I didn't see his chest rise for a bit either. There were a lot of external wounds, and I know the internal ones were even worse. The sheer number of injuries is a bad sign. I was in the trauma ward for 5 years; I haven't seen a lot of cases that are worse than this."

"What's your best guess?"

"About a 15-20% chance. Without complications? Probably even lower."

"Oh." Tom takes a long sip of coffee then continues. "On the way here I got a phone call from Simon Rhodes, the D.A. He said that when the NYPD went into Watson's apartment, they found a small amount of cyanide, at least enough to kill one more person. My question is why didn't he use it? Why did he change his mo?"

"The way he killed the rest of them, with cyanide, is a cold, calculating way of killing someone. Using something like a hammer denotes rage. Watson was somehow angered and enraged so that changed his mo."

"But why?"

"Only two people know the answer to that."

"Well, DA Rhodes told me that under no circumstances is the death penalty off the table. Even if he confesses to everything."

"Good."

"How's Stella holding up?"

"Not well. She's taking it harder than anyone. Be glad you didn't see her when we found him. The look in her eyes was awful. It was, the best way I can describe it is lifeless. And hopeless; she looked like she had lost all hope."

"But there is still hope Sheldon. Yall said it yourself."

"Not much."

The conversation ends on that down note. The two of them remain by the coffee machine, absorbing what the other has said. Neither of them is very interested in returning to the other room and waiting in that oppressive atmosphere.

After a long time, Danny comes out to get them.

"Any news Danny?"

"Doc Meyers just talked with us. He's out of surgery, his breathing has stabilized although he needs a tube to help him with that, and some of the swelling in his head has gone down. They also managed to fix his ribs. She said it was a miracle that there were no cracks in his skull from the hammer."

Danny expression is still grim; something the other two don't fail to notice.

"What aren't you telling us?"

"He's still in a coma. Doc Meyers said that it is still really dicey in his brain. The bleeding has stopped, but that could be temporary. He'll be in critical condition in the ICU for at least the next few days."

The three of them make their way back to the waiting room where the rest of the team is. Danny takes charge.

"Since we know he is out of surgery, I say we go in shifts for a while, until we know what his long-term condition is going to be. That way, at least the Lab can keep running. Mac would fire all of us if he knew we were just sitting around here waiting for him."

Some of them smile wearily, and no one disagrees with the plan.

"The only question is who goes when?"

Flack volunteers first. "I'll stay the night."

Danny speaks up next. "Lindsay and I can be here during the morning."

Sid starts thinking aloud. "I can be here in time so you guys to go to lunch and for the early afternoon."

Tom nods. "I have a meeting with the DA in the morning, but I'll join you Sid once that's over."

Hawkes points to himself and Adam. "We'll take over for you guys by mid-afternoon."

Danny turns to the one silent member of their group.

"What about you Stel?" He asks gingerly.

She gives a simple statement that no one would dare contest. "I'm not leaving."

Danny nods in understanding and turns to the rest of them. "Okay, everyone clear on the plan? After work tomorrow, we should come back here and do this again for the next day."

They begin to disperse. Everyone but Flack and Stella start heading towards the exit after saying very brief good-byes.

The waiting continues.

***

_Darkness… Mars... Pain… Blinding pain… Trapped... War… Coming for you… Dying…Darkness…_

I open my eyes, or at least I think I do. No blindfold. No rope either. All those thoughts and images that were buzzing through my mind are gone now. I'm lying on my stomach, with my hands parallel to my head, my face turned to the side. I don't feel any pain.

All around me, there is nothing. I'm not in the hellhole I had been kidnapped in. Nor am I in the Lab or even at a hospital. There are no buildings, no people, no terrain, not even any plants or animals. The entire world is just… empty.

After lying here for a while, I try and move. I stand up, my legs fully supporting me. I look down and try to gage my appearance. I'm wearing my bright red button-down shirt and black suit. No tie or any blood. No bruises or any injuries.

For some time I just stand here, unsure of what I need to do. Is this some kind of test? Am I supposed to wait here for someone? Or find the way out of here?

I decide to start walking. I don't seem to have many other options.

What seems like an eternity passes, and there is still nothing around. Then, the blurry outline of what could be a person appears in the distance. I start making my way towards them. Maybe this figure can tell me what is going on.

I'm closer to them. Getting a better look, I realize that I know this person.

It can't be.

_Any guesses on who it might be? I'm curious to hear who you all think it is. Stay tuned._


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_First off, sorry this took a little longer to post. Apparently, my professors think their papers are more important. However, here is Chapter 9. I'll post Chapter 10 probably on Thursday. As always, comments and reviews are appreciated. Enjoy. _

**Wherein our heroes keep a vigil for their friend.**

To an outsider, the Lab appears to be functioning as normal. Unfortunately, crime doesn't take a day off, so neither can the employees of the Crime Lab. The first piece of news passed around that morning by those in the know is good; Ned Watson confessed to everything. He doesn't seem to particularly care what happens to him now. Apparently, he is still muttering the phrase "master of eight worlds".

With that taken care of, the team tries to focus on work. It isn't very successful. While there are some cases, it is a relatively slow day. At least if things were busy that could help bury their minds and be the focus of all their concentration. It could be an escape. That escape is not forthcoming.

Everyone inside the department and most everyone in the NYPD now know what happened. Bad news travels fast. Luckily for the Crime Lab, the rest of the NYPD is offering sympathy. Sinclair came by that morning and reassured everyone that no one will interfere with the Lab. The gesture is appreciated.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, they are still waiting. During that long night, Flack kept as close an eye on Stella as he did on the door and the doctors. Eventually, the need for sleep overpowered him. Stella watched this and while he was asleep, she went into the bathroom and wept. Here, away from everyone else, she unleashed some of the feelings that she had been burying since they found him. For a while, she gave free reign to her tears and she let out some of her pain. Then, as quickly as they came, the tears stop. She looks at herself in the mirror, and steels herself. She will not cry anymore, at least in front of them. She is going to be strong. If this situation was reversed, and she or another one of them was in this awful position, he would be strong. For him, and for them, she will be strong.

The toughest part came early in the morning, when a nurse came in and told them they could wait in his room, at his bedside, in the ICU.

When she first caught sight of him, she felt weak again. The cuts and scrapes were bandaged up, and the blood is gone, but those are about the only improvements. He is hooked up to various machines, including one that is helping him breathe. His face is still bruised, and even in this state, he looks like he is in pain.

She finds a chair and maneuvers it to his bedside and puts his hand in hers. She isn't letting go.

Flack sits in the chair beside the door, not saying anything or looking at either of them. His mind keeps flashing back to the bombing incident. In many ways, this is much, much worse. That lunatic had targeted anyone and anything. The fact that Flack himself had been injured was just a terrible fluke. Mac though, had been purposely kidnapped and tortured. Mac had been _hunted_ like some kind of animal. Flack had been badly injured, but not as bad as Mac. A small part of him had wanted Ned Watson to resist enough to warrant deadly force. That would be true justice in Flack's opinion. Another part of his mind is deeply fearful. He was still grieving over what had happened to Angell. The thought of losing someone else, especially such a close friend, it would be too much.

After only an hour in the ICU, Danny and Lindsay come, much to Flack's relief. He doesn't say anything as they take his place in the room.

Sitting there in the waiting room is difficult for both of them. For Lindsay, it seemed that not long ago that everything was right with the world. She and the man she loved were married, and she had given birth to a beautiful daughter. Mac had even agreed to be Lucy's godfather. Now, things were more uncertain. Danny had finally recovered from the wounds he'd received. In those first moments after he'd been shot, her world had collapsed. She believes that Stella is experiencing very much the same thing. Watching Stella, she knows what she is going through and Lindsay can't imagine a worse feeling. She has had her share of suffering in life; the terrible crime she witnessed back in Montana, what had happened to Danny. It makes her reflect on what is truly important, and the man sitting beside her certainly is. She pulls herself closer to him.

Just waiting here is very bitter for Danny. Here he was, the pieces of his life finally being put back together when another piece falls away. He's felt so fortunate in these past few months that he has Lindsay around to be his rock. The Lab and everyone on the team have also been strong supporters he could rely on. None more so than Mac. His boss had been more understanding during that time than Danny could have hoped for. It's just another thing that he feels indebted to Mac about. He had told Danny that he went against everyone's advice when he'd hired him. When his brother Louie had been a suspect, Mac still stood by him. Thinking of his brother Louie does nothing but darken Danny's mood. The outcome then had been horrible, with his older brother dying in the arms of their mom and dad. However, Danny knows that Mac is a stronger person than his brother was. If anyone could get through this, it would be him.

When their shift is about to end, both Danny and Lindsay go up to the bed. Lindsay kisses Mac on the forehead. Danny simply mutters "get through this boss, we need you."

When two leave, two come. In this case Sid and Tom come in. It takes both of them to persuade Stella to get up and leave the room for a much-needed walk.

Stella's resiliency is amazing to Sid. He has always known how strong she is, but this is just further proof. He does wonder though, how she really is taking this. He can see the pain behind her fierce determination not to give up on him. Sid can only hope that the rest of them have that same resoluteness. Sid is not naïve; trained in medicine, he knows the long odds against his friend. But now he is trying to forget those odds and hope for the best. It isn't easy. Although he would never burden Stella or anyone else with the knowledge, it is still inescapable; there are people lying dead at autopsy that have been dealt less serious injuries. This certainly isn't helping Sid hope for the best. Still, stranger things have happened, and Sid hopes that this is one of those times.

Beside Sid, Tom mulls over his own thoughts. His mind by nature and training is focused on law. Reason, justice, these are the principles that law is built upon. This whole situation spits on both these principles. True justice would have Mac okay and the man who did this to him in such a terrible state. Tom's consolation is once again the law. Watson confessed to everything, and the law says that the death penalty is still an appropriate response. That is true justice in Tom's opinion; that man being condemned by the very laws he broke. As for his boss, he is relying on faith to help Mac out. Tom is a religious man; he believes there is a God out there who watches over everyone, and he has prayed fervently that God will be merciful to his boss.

Stella comes back from her short trip and one of her companions goes and gets lunch for the three of them. Like almost everything else, they eat in silence. At the end of their shift, Sid and Tom like those who came before them, go up to the Stella and Mac. Sid tries offering Stella some reassurances that he isn't sure she hears. Tom looks at Mac and says quietly "Mac, you're the strongest person I know; you're going to be alright."

The final two, Hawkes and Adam come in for their shift. Throughout the day, the sky has been darkening and the not-so distance rumbling of thunder can be heard easily from the ICU. It is almost as if Mother Nature herself is angry with what has happened.

It feels surreal to Adam to be sitting here. He never would have thought that something like this could happen to Mac of all people. The very thought of his boss, a person who even to this day slightly intimidates him being here is shocking. Like Danny, Adam feels indebted to Mac. He knows that he should have been fired when the budget had to be cut, but Mac didn't do it. He found a way to save Adam his job. Now, having that same man here, fighting for his life, and needing help from a machine just to breathe. What Adam truly wants to know is why them? Why must this group of people have to suffer? Adam doesn't know the answer but he does know that it isn't right. It just isn't right.

Seeing Mac in the ICU, Hawkes feels some relief as opposed to when he first found him. In that hellhole of a basement, Hawkes believed for a brief moment that his boss truly had been lost. He had hoped beyond hope that he was wrong. He didn't want to be the person who had to tell them all that their friend was gone. When he found a pulse, Hawkes muttered a thankful prayer to whatever divine power was listening. Mac's breathing had stabilized, and there is no internal bleeding, at least for now. He had talked with Doctor Meyers before coming in here, conferring with her as a fellow physician instead of as a man with a friend in the hospital. The outlook Doctor Meyers gave him was slightly less grim than what he originally thought, but it _is_ an improvement.

The end of the day brings the rest of the team back to the hospital. Adam and Hawkes go out to meet up with them Inside it is just two now.

While others come and go, Stella remains. Except for the short walk at lunch time, she has been here all day. And she will stay for as long as it takes. Until he wakes up and looks into her eyes, she will not leave. For the day, she just sat there, watching him. To her, the world had shrunk to just the two of them, with only the occasional interruption from anyone else. The concern of her colleagues is not lost on Stella. She has seen the looks they have been giving her, the compassion and the pity. However her concern is for them and for Mac. She knows she isn't leaving. The rest of them, they don't need to be doing this to themselves. With her free hand, she motions for all of them to come in.

"Listen, I appreciate what you all have been doing, but we can't all keep going on like this. Tomorrow is Saturday; I want you to take the day off. Don't come here, don't go to the Lab, just try and enjoy your Saturday."

The protests start immediately.

"No Stella."

"You shouldn't be here by yourself."

"It really is no big deal."

"If anyone needs a break, it's you."

She holds up her hand. "I'll be fine. I need some time alone and you need some time away. If I have to, I'll order you as your boss."

This helps quiet the protests. No one is willing to argue with her right now, especially since she played the boss card. Best not to test things.

Flack speaks up when they are out of the hospital. "Well, since we've been ordered to take tomorrow off, I'm heading to Gordon's Bar for a drink, anyone interested?"

Everyone but Sid agrees to come; the ME decides to spend the evening with his wife. At Gordon's, the beer flows freely. A couple share stories, but the conversation is a somber one. Finally, Lindsay lifts up her glass.

"To Mac" she says.

"To Mac" Everyone toasts their friend.

Then, they depart, each heading their own way.

_A little more of a somber chapter. Don't worry; the answer to the cliffhanger I left at the end of the last chapter is coming up next. Stay tuned._


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well, here it is, Chapter 10. Rest assured, I kept my promise and at least the cliffhanger from Chapter 8 will be resolved. Thanks again to everyone who has been reading this and a very special thanks for all the kind reviews. Hope you like it._

**Wherein two much remembered people join our cast, while our hero continues his strange journey. **

I practically run to the only other person in this world of nothingness. It never really occurred to me until now that I'm not hurt, or that my clothes are different, or that I have no idea where I am. At this point, these things are irrelevant. Getting to this person is the only thing that matters.

It seems that the closer I come to them, the further away they appear to be.

As I get closer, I have a clearer view. I can see that it is in fact two people. One is a younger man and he is carrying another, much skinnier, frailer man. The younger man is dressed in what appears to be an Army uniform from WWII. He looks eerily familiar, and by the way he walks and the outline of his face, I know who it is.

I cry out to him "Dad!"

My father turns around and looks at me. The man he is carrying is the one he helped liberate from one of the camps; a survivor of the Holocaust. The man in his arms is so thin that I can see every rib and bone in his body. The sight is sickening.

My father doesn't say anything and continues walking away.

"Wait!" No matter how fast I go, I can't seem to catch up to him. He disappears.

"Dad!"

He's gone, but another person is still in the distance. This person _has_ to stay here. I need to know what is going on.

Luckily, they aren't moving. This time, it's a woman. Her back is to me, but even from a distance, I know it is her. My heart feels like it is in my throat.

I make my way right behind her. My knees are weak and I have trouble getting out the word, as if saying it will make her disappear.

"Claire?"

She turns around.

Her eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue.

"It's me Mac." Her voice. Her voice saying my name. It's wonderful. It is the sound I've wanted to hear the most in almost eight years.

"I've missed you so much Claire." I start to feel a few tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't care.

"I've missed you too Mac." She brings one of her hands up to my cheek and wipes away a tear.

It suddenly strikes me; I don't know where I am or what has happened to me. I don't know if I'm alive or dead, or somewhere in between. I don't know why I saw my father. I don't know if I'll ever see New York or anyone else again. Right now, none of that matters. Right now I'm here with the woman I love and nothing else.

If this is what death is like, I'm not sad that I died.

For a while, I just stand here, my feet anchored to the floor. She still has her hand on my cheek and I savor her touch. I peer into her eyes, and I want to make this moment last for eternity.

After an all too brief period, it ends. She tilts her head in an inquiring way.

"Don't you have a question for me?"

The truth is I do, but I'm afraid. I don't want to know the answer. If I know, this might stop. She might go away.

Finally, I muster up the courage to ask her "Claire am I dead?"

I can barely breathe.

"No, you aren't dead. You're in a coma."

My brain only partially processes what that means. It doesn't matter. I've made my decision.

"Claire, I want to stay here, with you."

She's frowning at me now. The sight of it makes me ache.

"You can't stay here Mac, this isn't real. You have to go back."

I'm determined not to accept that fact. "No, I want to stay."

Her blue eyes pierce into mine. "Mac, it's alright. I know you want to stay but you can't."

"I love you Claire."

"I love you too Mac. I'll always love you, and I will be waiting here for you when your time comes. But now, you have to go, and one of our friends will lead you back." She takes her hand off my cheek and steps back a bit. I'm about to move closer to her, but a new and familiar voice calls out from behind me.

"Hi Mac."

I turn around. My new companion isn't that new at all.

"Stella?"

"That's right, it's me Mac. I've come to take you back."

"But, what about Claire?" I look back at where she was standing. There is no one. She's gone.

"Claire!" I shout out her name, and look everywhere for her, but it is useless.

I've lost her for the second time. The sheer weight of my failure makes me fall to my knees.

"No" I whisper in despair.

My world has darkened, and the hole in my heart that had been so briefly filled is torn open once again.

After sometime, I feel a hand touch my shoulder.

"Mac, it's time to go." Stella is still here with me. She's right; I have to leave this place.

She starts walking in the direction I originally came from. I follow behind her.

Our journey begins in silence.

_I'll admit, I enjoyed writing this chapter more than the last one. A shorter chapter this time. Hope I managed to keep you all guessing a bit. Stay tuned, Chapter 11 may have a surprise or two of its own. _


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well, I was very pleased by the number of views my last chapter got. It's very humbling. I think the next chapter will be posted Monday. Only a couple of chapters left. I'm already thinking of my next work. Enjoy._

**Wherein our cast deals with a very unusual Saturday in July.**

Saturday in July is typically a relaxing time for the people of New York City. School is out, summer is in full swing, and the weather is usually nice, if on the hot side. Even better, it is a weekend so people are off work. Some go to the Jersey shore, others to Central Park or Coney Island. Some attend baseball games and others head out of the City. Whatever they do, for most New Yorkers, this Saturday in July is carefree.

Although not so carefree for others.

Don Flack spends this Saturday in July alone. He feels that most of his days have been alone recently.

Danny and Lindsay Messer go out to a movie. The film is good, but the company is even better.

Lucy Messer spends the day with her grandparents in Brooklyn. Aside from a few diaper changes, she mostly naps.

Sheldon Hawkes sleeps in late. He spends his day in his new apartment watching a baseball game. The Mets win.

Sid Hammerback takes his wife out for a nice dinner and a Broadway show. They see _Of Mice and Men._

Tom Hayes goes golfing. His drives are good, and he scores below par, but his putting needs work.

Adam Ross goes shopping down at the local electronic store. He purchases an upgrade for his iPod.

Doctor Sandy Meyers leaves the hospital and goes home to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Ned Watson receives a visit from his defense attorney. The state of New York is going to seek the death penalty against him.

Two other people spend their Saturday in July together, but in very different ways.

Stella Bonasera is in a hospital room this Saturday in July. She is refusing to leave here, and more importantly, she is refusing to leave his side. She will wait as long as it takes. She has been telling herself the same thing over and over again in the days since this terrible chain of events has occurred; he is going to be okay. He is going to recover and look into her eyes and she in his.

Because anything else is unacceptable.

Mac Taylor lay in a hospital bed somewhere between life and death this Saturday in July. In the grey uncertain area where his mind now resides, he and a companion are walking in a world of emptiness towards an unknown goal.

However, his journey will soon be drawing to a close this Saturday in July.

***

We've been walking for some time. Although Stella isn't saying anything, her presence is comforting. After seeing Claire and my father disappear so suddenly, I'm afraid I might lose her too.

In the silence, my thoughts drift back to Claire. I saw her. I spoke to her. I heard her say my name and felt her hand upon my cheek for the first time in almost 8 years.

I miss her already.

"She said she'd be waiting for you." Stella calls out from ahead of me.

"Are you a mind reader now Stella?"

"_I_ _am_ part of your mind Mac." She responds with some of the fire I know so well.

"True, I guess I forgot about that." _That means Claire was part of your mind. Fake, an illusion._ I tell myself bitterly.

"Mac, stop it." Stella turns around and faces me. The two of us stop and look into each other's eyes.

"You know you can't stay here. You have to come back, to us, to your team." She puts her hand on my cheek, much like Claire was doing earlier.

"To me."

Her words and actions stun me. I don't know what to say.

Luckily, she continues talking. "I know you love her and she loves you. But Mac, there are those of us who still care about you. We need you. I'm waiting for you." She moves away from me.

"Stella where are you going?"  
"I'm waiting for you Mac." She continues stepping away from me.

"Stella!" I shout to her.

"I'm waiting for you Mac."

I run towards her. I already lots Claire, I'm not losing her too.

No matter how fast I run, I can't catch her.

"Stella!" I shout at the top of my lungs. Her figure keeps getting smaller and smaller. Ignoring every rational thought, I still keep running towards her. It's no use.

"Stella!" I trip while running and tumble to the ground. I intend to keep going after her, only I can't move. I can't stand up or move my arms. It takes all my strength to lift my head up.

"Don't go Stella!" I croak out, using up all my remaining energy. My vision is getting blurry and I can't focus on anything. My head is dizzy and I feel myself losing consciousness. Yet, I still here a voice.

"I'm waiting for you."

Everything goes black.

_Another short chapter this time._ _If you all have any thoughts or comments, please be kind enough to review my little story. Many thanks. _


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Once again, I'm very grateful to my readers, and especially those who have reviewed my work. The next chapter will be the last one and it should be posted before the end of the week. As usual, please read and review if you so choose. Enjoy. _

**Wherein our hero rejoins the rest of our cast and a new journey begins. **

_Darkness…_

"_I'm waiting for you."_

"_Mac!"_

My eyes jolt open. Instead of nothingness or Saint Peter at the Gate, I find myself in a hospital bed. The room I'm in is thoroughly unremarkable. White tiles, grey blinds and not much else. There are also several machines hooked up to me. I can tell one is monitoring my heart rate and another is attached to the tube that is down my throat, helping me breathe. The rest are doing God only knows what. For a brief moment, I have no feelings or memory of what has happened. It lasts only for that moment. I wish I could call it back.

Then, the pain starts making its presence known. It is everywhere, associated with everything I do. Every time I breathe, every time my heart beats, even just lying here, all these things cause pain. By far the worst is the pain in my head. It is almost unbearable, worse by far than the worst migraine imaginable.

In between the pain, I notice another sensation. My hand is being held by another person. I look over. It's Stella. She's by my side, and I'd bet my paycheck she's been here as long as has been possible. Right now she is asleep in what has to be an uncomfortable position.

She led me back, and now she is here with me.

For a while, I just lay here, looking at her, enjoying her silent company. Finally, I decide to make my presence known. Unable to talk, I squeeze her hand. She's starting to stir.

She shifts around for a bit and looks over at me. I don't think I've ever seen a face so relieved.

"Hi there Mac." She is smiling, and what looks like silent tears are beginning to form in her eyes.

I stare back at her. In this moment, there is no one else in the world. Just us.

Wiping away a tear, she starts to move away from the bed. I don't want that. I make a grab for her hand and make some kind of grunting noise in protest.

She looks away back at me with a smile, and talks to me in a reassuring tone. "Don't worry Mac, I'm not going anywhere, but we need to let the doctors see you."

I blink in understanding.

She calls out for the attendants, and my room quickly becomes occupied. One of the nurses is talking to Stella while the rest crowd around me. The throbbing in my head is making it hard to focus on what is going on. One of the people, I assume the actual doctor is talking to me.

"Detective Taylor? My name is Doctor Meyers and I'm the main physician on your case. You're in the ICU. We managed to stop the bleeding in your brain and we also managed to fix your broken ribs. I'm afraid that you took several rather nasty hits to your throat and larynx, so the tube helping you breathe will have to stay in there for a little longer. Please blink once if you understand me, twice if you don't."

I blink once.

She nods. "Good. You are a very lucky man to have made it so far Detective."

As the rest of them finish up, I look to Stella. She is taking everything in. One of the nurses is still talking to her, and I notice that Stella has stopped smiling; in fact, a worried look is on her face. The nurse must be telling her more about my injuries.

Finally, Doctor Meyers has ushered the rest of her team out my room. "Okay, everything looks fine for now Detective Taylor. Your condition has at least stabilized, and the fact that you've awakened from the coma is a great first step. I or one of the nurses will be back to check on your condition in a couple of hours."

I blink once as she leaves. It is just me and Stella again. I like it much better this way. She walks back over to me and places herself in the same chair she had been sitting in before. She doesn't say anything and I can't, so we sit here in silence.

It slowly dawns on me how tired I actually am. My eyelids are getting heavy.

Stella notices. "It's okay, get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up."

I squeeze her hand in the affirmative. It isn't long before I start to drift off to sleep.

She kisses my hand. "Sweet dreams Mac."

***

Stella watches him fall asleep. She's feeling both great relief and great trepidation. He's out of the coma. It was probably one of the most wonderful things in the world when he woke her up. Based on everything Doctor Meyers had told her, it was nothing short of miracle that he had made it this far at all.

Unfortunately, that is not the end of the story. He still can't even breathe on his own, much less talk or be anything resembling normalcy. When he squeezed her hand, she was stunned at how weak it was. He will have a very long road to recovery.

But he won't be traveling that road alone.

***

It's been nearly a week since I've come out of the coma. Progress has been slow to say the least. They finally removed the tube from my throat allowing me to speak, but that's been about it. The drugs and medicine they have been giving me have helped to keep the pain to a manageable level, but I'm still very weak. Everyone from the Lab has come by to see me. Lindsay even brought Lucy. It was an odd feeling, seeing my goddaughter. A part of me appreciated the irony; last time, it was she who was in hospital and me coming to visit.

Earlier I finally managed to convince Stella to leave, at least for a while. I'm convinced it will do her good to get out of this place, and I needed some time alone to think.

I still haven't told her or anyone else what this whole experience has been like for me. I haven't talked to Stella about the kidnapping, the beating and especially the coma. I haven't told her about seeing her, or my father, or Claire, or what it all means. I want to bring it up, but I'm nervous and waiting for the right time.

But first there are more practical things to consider. Now she is back, sitting at my side once again. Today, I've made a vow. At the very least, I'm going to stand up.

I squeeze her hand. "Stel."

"Yeah Mac?"

"Please help me up. I'm getting out of this bed."

"Are you sure?" She asks with concern.

I nod firmly. "Yes. I'm tired of just laying here."

I throw off the bed sheets and maneuver my feet off the ledge of the bed and drop them on the cold floor. All the while turning my body so that I'm sitting on the edge of the bed.

Stella has gotten up out of her chair and squatted down to my level. I place my arm around her shoulder.

"Ready Mac?"

"Ready."

I start putting weight on my feet and legs with her help, and I slowly start to stand up. My legs are weak and shaky, but it is done.

"Good job Mac."

"Thanks."

We stand there for a moment as I savor my small victory. I'm feeling better so I decide to try something else.

"Okay Stella, let's try moving."

I slowly shuffle my feet as we move forward in what could be vaguely described as walking. Another triumph. Now I'm going to press my luck.

"One more thing."

"What is it?"

"Please let go. I want to stand on my own."

"Don't push yourself too much."

"I'll be fine."

She slowly let's go of me. My legs are very wobbly and I need to steady myself against the wall for a moment, but I manage to stay standing. It's done.

"That's great Mac, good job." She smiles at me.

I return her smile with own of my own. "Thanks." I feel much better. I'm finally making progress.

"Want to go somewhere?" She asks playfully.

I respond seriously. "Actually yes. How about to the window? I want to look outside."

She comes over and helps me make my way to the window. When we make it, she lets go of me and the two of us look out. The day is clear and sunny.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes it is."

I swallow a bit. Now is the time to talk.

"Stella?" I begin nervously

She turns to look at me. "Yes Mac?"

"I need to talk to you about something important."

"What is it?"

I'm about to start when a coughing spasm strikes. The movement of coughing throws me off balance and I collapse to the floor.

"Mac!"She rushes over to help me up.

I keep coughing and only with her help do I stagger back to my feet.

"It's okay Mac. It's okay." She quickly helps me get back to the bed as the coughing subsides.

"God damn it!" I swear loudly.

"It's okay. You were doing great. Look at the progress you made." She tries reassuring me.

I'm not having it. My knees hurt from falling on them. Just more damned pain. This is the last straw. I've had enough.

"No Stella I'm not doing great. I'm tired of being here, I'm tired of being in pain, and I'm tired of waiting to recover. I want to get out of this godforsaken place and get back to normal."

"It's going to take some time Mac, you have to be patient."

"I'm through with being patient. I want to get better and I don't want to have to wait anymore!"

She looks at me, full of compassion. "I know Mac. I can't imagine what you are going through, or how much pain you must be in, but you have to be patient. I know that isn't what you want to hear, but it's the truth."

I stop my angry tirade. "You're right Stel. It's just so frustrating sitting here, doing nothing but dealing with pain. Seeing everyone here and feeling sorry for me; I hate it."

"I know Mac, but you made progress today. You stood up and walked. You are getting better. It is just going to take time."

I take in her advice. "Help me up Stella."

"What? After that fall?"

I nod. "Yes. I need to keep trying."

We start it again. I'll tell her later.

***

"Well Detective, I must say, you certainly recovered better than I expected. I never thought you'd be able to leave so early."

"Thanks for all your help Dr. Meyers." I'm finally being released from the hospital, almost two weeks since I've come out of the coma.

"It's my job Detective Taylor. However, you still should take it easy. No strenuous physical activity for a while. Especially no field work."

"Do I at least have a doctor's note to go back to work?"

She laughs. "Desk work Detective. Or work in the Lab. That's it. Also, remember to take the medication I've prescribed to you. That will keep the pain to a minimum."

"Thank you Doctor." I shake her hand.

"I hope to _not_ be seeing you around here anytime soon Detective." She smiles and walks away.

"Are you ready to leave Mac?"

Sid came to drive me back to the Lab for my day back at the Lab.

"Yes, thanks for doing this Sid. I guess you got the short straw to come and chauffer me back to the Lab?"

"I wouldn't call it the short straw boss. Everyone else was dealing with some crime scenes around town. They figured you would rather have them working instead of driving you around."

"Am I that obvious Sid?"

"No, they just know you."

"I guess so."

We make our way to the car. I have to walk slowly, and Sid helps me a bit as I get into the car.

"How are you feeling boss?"

"There is an ache in my chest and head, but I still am feeling good. I'm finally getting back to normal."

"Good to hear Mac."

"Sid." I look to the ME.

"What is it Mac?"

"I need a favor."

"What favor?"

"I need you to call Tom and get him to call District Attorney Rhodes and Sing Sing Prison. I need to have a meeting arranged."

_ A little longer than my previous few chapters. Hope you all still like it. Almost done._


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well folks, here's the final chapter. I have really enjoyed working on this story. Truly a labor of love. I already have my next work in mind and I hope you all will like it as much as you have with this one. Enjoy._

**Wherein our hero and villain have one final confrontation as the curtain draws to a close.**

District Attorney Simon Rhodes looks at the man in the conference room with the utmost contempt. He's dealt with a lot of criminals in his day, but this Ned Watson character is certainly one of the more unique. If he hadn't pleaded guilty, Rhodes would have enjoyed the chance to prosecute him.

The younger man beside him would dearly love the chance to do it himself. But Tom Hayes is no longer a prosecutor, although some days he wishes he had his old job.

"Ain't it something Simon?"

"What do you mean Tom?"

"Look at that man. What about him screams out 'homicidal maniac' to you?"

"Nothing as far as I can tell."

"Exactly. It just seems to me that there should be a way to tell. Like there should be a sign or a mark of some kind."

"It would certainly make everyone around here's job easier."

"Yeah, but life is never that easy." Tom agrees as his phone lights up, indicating that a message has been received. He reads it quietly and informs DA Rhodes.

Rhodes opens the door and sits down at the opposite side of the conference table from Watson. The DA begins the conversation.

"You know Mr. Watson that you are waiving your right to have your counsel present?"

"Of course."

"You are also aware that you are not obligated to answer any questions?"

"Yes."

"Finally, you do realize that you have confessed to quite a number of crimes?"

"Absolutely. May I ask a question?"

"Certainly."

"Why did you call this meeting?"

"Actually, I didn't call this meeting."

Watson looks puzzled "well then who did?"

The door opens and another man comes inside.

***

I walk into the conference room very slowly. It is painful and still a chore, but I will not show any pain or weakness. Not now.

The look of shock on Watson's face is one I don't take any particular pleasure in. It isn't just that he is surprised to see me alive, but there is also another look, one more sinister. There is almost a hunger in his eyes when he looks at me.

With some discomfort, I sit down in the empty chair. DA Rhodes gets up and leaves the room.

It is just the two of us; me and the man who almost killed me. Only this time, he is the one being imprisoned.

"Surprised to see me again Mr. Watson?"

"Yes I must certainly say that I am Detective." His voice is conversational. No anger or hatred.

"Do you have any idea as to why I want to talk to you?"

"Actually, no I don't, although I am quite curious."

"It's simple. I want to know why."

"Why what Detective?"

"Why them? Why me?"

"Why them? Why you? It's simple Detective. You and they failed to do what you swore to do. You violated your oath like they violated theirs and you had to be purified of your wrongful deeds."

I narrow my eyes and speak with undisguised disgust. "And what gives you the right to judge those other people? In your twisted mind, what makes it okay to kidnap and murder 7 innocent people and try to murder an 8th?"

"I'm sure you understand. In your own failed way, you pass judgment on people every day. You decide who to arrest and who to leave on the streets. It is through your actions that a person is either brought to trial or merely let go. I just did what you yourself do every day Detective."

I can barely contain my anger. "You know nothing about who I am or what I do, but I'll be glad to educate you. I collect evidence and enforce the law. But this isn't about me, this is about you Watson. You failed; I'm still alive and you have been caught. And when I get up from this desk, I will never think about you again for as long as I live. Except for when I watch them stick the needle in your arm. Burn in Hell you son of a bitch."

I get up from the table and look at the man one more time. No, man is too nice a word. He's a monster. He feels nothing but satisfaction about what he did, and I have no doubts that if given the chance, he'd kill again without any hesitation. But I wasn't lying; he failed.

He still looks at me with an expressionless face.

I close to door behind me.

***

In my office, the day seems to fly by. Everyone has come in to welcome me back to work and when they aren't here talking to me, there is always the mountain of paperwork to deal with. Some of them are just the backlog from being out of the office for two weeks, but others have to deal with recent events. It's sad really, having to fill out forms for almost getting killed. Despite the forms, it feels good to be back. Finally, things are starting to return to normal. More than anything, since I woke up from the coma, I've wanted my life to be like it was.

I don't notice how fast the time or the day goes. I check my watch and it is already 8:30 pm. Slowly getting up from the desk, I leave my office and find who I am looking for.

"Stella?"

She looks up from one of the computer monitors. "Yeah Mac?"

"It's after 8, do you want to get some dinner?"

"Sure, why not."

***

The restaurant I take her to is fancier than where I usually go. I wanted something that would be better than the hospital food that has been my diet for nearly two weeks. I also wanted this as a way of saying thank you for everything she has done for me. In the background, music is playing and there are several people on the dance floor.

We have our dinner and wine and generally enjoy a nice evening. Neither of us says too much. I think we both are just comfortable being with each other in a normal setting, away from work, away from the troubles of the last two weeks.

Maybe it's the wine. Maybe it's just having a decent meal. Maybe it's my chest feeling better or my legs feeling stronger. Either way, I get up from the table and go over to her.

"Do you want to dance?" I offer her my hand.

She looks surprised at the offer. "I'd love to." Her hand closes into mine and we make our way over to the dance floor. Luckily, the music is slower so I don't feel too much discomfort at the movement.

The two of us dance. Just us and the band. We dance for some time. A little later in the evening, she pulls closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder and her eyes closed.

"Stel." I whisper to her. "I have something to tell you. It's about what I saw in the coma."

Quietly, on the dance floor, I tell her everything.

_Well, that is that. Very special thanks to the following people who were so kind to review my work: rocksmacked, wildweasel, Woodland Flower, libertykid, lily moonlight, MissJessica92, phantom of the tinman, and Catulicious. Thank you all and my readers very very much._

_J._


End file.
